


Arrogance

by tornyourdress



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, Gender or Sex Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-01-17
Updated: 2005-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:46:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24441556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tornyourdress/pseuds/tornyourdress
Summary: Jamie Potter is the most arrogant girl at Hogwarts. Lily can't stand her. Really.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Arrogance

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Genderfuck Challenge](http://www.livejournal.com/community/pornish_pixies/241323.html) at [](https://pornish-pixies.livejournal.com/profile)[**pornish_pixies**](https://pornish-pixies.livejournal.com/).

  
Jamie is too arrogant for her own damn good, you think. Best Quidditch player Gryffindor has seen in a long time, but she knows it, strutting around as though she owns the place with Peter Pettigrew fawning pathetically over her and Remus Lupin and Sirius Black being almost as bad, except everyone knows they’re madly in love with each other as well, and you can understand that more than you can this widespread obsession with Jamie Potter and her hazel eyes that aren’t nearly as remarkable as everyone claims, and that black hair that she doesn’t even bother doing anything with, no Straightening Charms or anything. She just ties it back into a sort of messy ponytail with tendrils hanging down on either side of her face, and you wish you could just wave your wand at it to tidy it up, or even get out a hairbrush and pull it into a proper ponytail. It must get in her eyes when she’s flying, you reflect, those hazel eyes that you don’t care about as much as everyone else seems to.

She seems to strut around more when you’re around, and finally you come to realise that she’s putting on a show for you. Suddenly the fact that she can be friends with so many boys and not fall for any of them slots into place. You find it amusing more than anything else – a Quidditch player and a dyke; how could you not have worked that one out?

“Lily,” she says one day with the sort of brash confidence that drives you absolutely mad, “you know you like me. Why don’t you just admit it?”

“Because your ego is already so terribly inflated that I fear for the safety of the school if you were to have yet another admirer,” you respond. “That head of yours would swell to dangerous proportions.”

You are pleased with your response, but she just rolls her eyes, and without even asking, pins you against the wall and kisses you. You struggle, but you spend too much time in the library and subsequently are no match for an athlete, and the struggle becomes half-hearted when her tongue slides inside your mouth, exploring.

Her hand is underneath your robes already, your nipples hardening at her touch, and you think of all the reasons you should be walking away right now, and yet somehow you can’t bring yourself to care about the fact that a teacher might walk in at any moment, or the fact that this is Jamie doing this to you – because it’s hard to tell the person who’s got one hand fondling your breasts and the other hand moving agonisingly slowly up the length of your thighs that you’d rather they didn’t, actually, especially when they happen to be terribly good at the whole thing. It’s typical, really, that Jamie kisses like an expert, gropes like an expert, and knows that she’s doing it, knows perfectly well that your little gasps are entirely the result of her actions.

If you were made of stronger stuff you might push her away and tell her that you’re not interested, that arrogance isn’t the least bit appealing and that you’re not even into girls, for Merlin’s sake, but right now your knees are jelly and you don’t trust yourself to even attempt to move, or speak. Your legs are barely capable of supporting you as Jamie’s thumb circles your clit and her fingers move over slick wetness to press inside you just enough for you to want more, and your throat seems as though its sole function is to moan in appreciation and need.

Those fingers move inside you, now, and that and the friction of her palm against your clit is enough to make you come, knees finally giving way so that you’re being held up entirely by the wall and Jamie, in a vague dazed sort of slump. You’re staring at the girl with the messy ponytail licking her fingers clean with relish, not knowing quite what to say.

Jamie, of course, always knows what to say. “I knew you liked me,” she says with a smirk, sauntering away, leaving you to slide to the cold stone floor.

She didn’t even _ask_ , you think. Jamie is definitely too damn arrogant for her own good, and yet now you feel slightly more inclined to let her get away with it.  



End file.
